Shadow of the Snow
by TattoedTeardrops
Summary: He could still hear it, the painful memories of his past, how they said he was a monster. But looking back at those sea-green eyes, he thought, that maybe he wasn't so bad after all. ONE-SHOT. A little side story for my fic 'Noir' Can be read as a stand-alone


_Snow..._

 _...he hadn't seen it in a while..._

 _...how peculiar..._

 _...cold..._

 _...yet beautiful..._

\--

 _White_...

He could see it, the high-tops of the evergreen. The thick and study branches, dipped in a fluffy green blanket. Nowadays, those soft blankets were covered with an another layer, one softer and more _fragile_ , almost like a porcelain doll, yet it was not.

It's been a long time— _too long_ , but even then, he never forgot how it shone, so white and magical— _unreal_. It was almost as if it were _magic_ , but it couldn't be. He would've had sensed it by now.

He was _home_ , he knew it, where he belongs. Some might say he was cold, bitter, with heart sculpted of ice— ice from the deepest and most dangerous of _Jotunheim_.

There were times, times when he would think it's true, how _inhumane_ and a monster he is, with a frozen heart and equally cold hands— no warmth, no mercy, just a cold-blooded _murderer_.

 _Liesmith_...

Maybe he was cold-blooded, like the snake he was known to be, sneaky, slippery, _venomous._ He knew, how the poison of hate had creeped into his heart, tainting it, painting it _black_ , yet he couldn't stop it.

 _He could still hear it— the jeers, the **mockery** , the disappointed looks..._

He believed in magic, how it could change things for the better, but that was long ago, in a time trapped— _lost_ in memories. But even now and then, he could feel the sense of nostalgia.

 _Monster_...

He could hear it, the pained screams of the people he had cut down, had _murdered_ using the very same magic he once had _sworn_ to help others. It rang in his ear like a bell, deep and loud, and it played over and over again, giving him no chance to recollect his sanity before it struck again, _ruthless_ and unforgiving, much like he was in a battlefield.

 _Like a broken record..._

How he _wished_ it would stop, even for only a moment. Sometimes he wondered, if it really was worth it, to keep living, to keep _fighting_. He was tired, the years piled on top of his shoulders like bricks, weighing him down, like the emotionless charade he had to put up every time.

 _Conceal_...

Is it really worth the pain, to keep living a _lie_?

... _don't feel..._

Sometimes he wondered, if it was easier to just fall off, down the cliff and into Ginnungagap— into the _void_. How just one _tiny_ leap and it'll all be over, except he knew, he _knew_ how it would never work, how a monster lives in there, oh, he knew, he tried, and he found _him_. But maybe, just maybe, he'll be fortunate enough to just _die_.

... _don't let them know..._

A pair of green eyes entered his mind, and he found himself thinking that maybe, just _maybe_ , living wasn't so bad after all. Just like the cold, it was harsh and merciless, yet just as soft and gentle.

 _Christmas_...

That was what the mortals had called it. He remembered, a time buried in the back of his mind, hidden among the ruins of his early memories.

He had visited Midgard back then, cloaked in the illusion of a ten-year old.

He remembered, the old and weathered buildings, crippled with age, and how warm and filled with memories they were, yet even then, he could hear a single, distant, _broken_ cry.

 _Those tears..._

Curiousity had spiked in him, like a single burst of a _firework_ , simple yet big enough to command his entire being to look for it. Not once did he _ever_ regretted it.

... _how they shone like crystals._

In the back of a building, he found a boy, younger than his own illusion had made him be. It bothered him, how someone so young could carry so much sorrow. Then the boy looked up, and he found himself lost in the _raging_ ocean trapped behind those orbs.

"Why are you crying?"

The sobs stopped as the raven-haired boy with the tears dropping down his pinkish cheeks tried to calm himself down. It was quite a while before the little child spoke, sounding as broken as he did on the outside.

"...mommy..."

He had just barely managed to hear the last part of the sentence.

"What was that? I didn't quite understand it..."

The little child raised up his hand and wiped the pearl-like tears of his cheeks, the quivering lips turning into a little yet still sorrowful pout.

"I _said_ , I don't have any presents to give to mommy..."

Ah, so that was the problem. The little boy looked up at him through his lashes, the ocean-like eyes looking just a tiny bit hopeful, but it was still fragile, like the snow globes he had seen earlier.

"...help me?"

He wasn't quite sure why, but he did anyways. Maybe it was that tiny spark of hope, the little _amber_ he couldn't quite bring himself to crush down, or maybe it was the image of those tear-stricken cheeks. He never did found out, even until now.

"Okay..."

And then it began, the small yet meaningful show of his powers, how the cold and crisp air shimmered and swirled as thin blue ribbons joined in the ballad of ice and snow. That's when he heard it, the tiny laugh, ringing like _bells_ , not the big and loud ones like his nightmares consisted of, but small ones, like the ones you find on wind chimes, not as loud, but still, it cut in through his demons, quiet yet _loud_ enough to cover up the sounds of his monsters.

"Blue...I _like_ blue..."

Smiling fondly, he looked at the sky, how a simple spell he conjured could bring up such _joy_ in the other.

"Yeah...I guess I do too..."

It wasn't long before the thin strips and swirls formed something, they merged together and crafted a delicate, simple, crystal rose. He took it and soon gave it to the other boy, marveling how those eyes lit up so quickly, the storm gone and replaced by a gentle tide.

"...thank you..."

It was so soft he barely managed to hear it, but he did, and he _swore_ his frozen heart just melted a little, the ice burning a bright amber colour in the inside.

"It was my pleasure..."

It was silent before a moment, before the small child spoke, his tone hopeful and, dare he say it, _afraid._ He would've liked to see those _amazing_ eyes once more, but the child refused to meet his eyes, opting to look at the snow-covered ground.

"...are you going to leave?"

 _What?_

"...you're going to leave, just like the others did..."

He didn't knew what possessed him to answer it, but what he _did_ know for sure was that he didn't like the sad look he knew was painted on that face.

" _No_ , I will not leave you, I give you my word."

"Really?"

The child turned to look at him, the sea-green orbs wide and a little unbelieving. It warmed his being, as if a candle was just lit, all because of this little _child_.

"Really."

He never did keep his promise, but that didn't mean he forgot about the boy, _no_ , those ocean-like eyes haunted his mind for a long while.

The years passed on, with every single one plunging him deeper and deeper into the abyss of insanity. The hateful glares didn't stop, so did the snide comments thrown behind his back— behind those _smiles_.

Yet even when he was drowning, he never forgot about the little child, how he would be waiting for him, cold and _alone_ , wanting for the stranger he just met only once before to come and play with him.

 _I'm sorry..._

It was years later when he decided to look for the child, the same one whose eyes and laugh _haunted_ him. But alas, he never did find him, because when he did reach the same building, he found out, that a few months back, the boy had disappeared, _never_ to be heard of again.

... _forgive me._

The boy's neighbor had told him about his mother's and stepfather's death, and how he should stop looking because the one he had been searching for might as well be dead by now.

He never did.

But soon, a few months later, he decided that maybe, just _maybe_ , he would never hear that laugh or see those beautiful orbs again, and thus began the invasion.

Now, as he looked at the snow, only a single pair of sea-green orbs entered his mind. Even if only once, he never had regretted meeting the raven-haired child.

 _Maybe_...

As age passed on, he couldn't bring himself to just forget those enchanting orbs, the dark yet beautiful mane, and the _bewitching_ laugh. He would still look for the boy, even if he was now nothing more than a mere _memory—_ dusty and old, yet filled with warmth.

 _...I am not that bad after all..._

And that, Loki knew, that he was like the cold he was made of, dangerous and powerful, yet just as gentle and harmless— you just have to know where to _look_.

And it was only because of those ocean-like eyes.


End file.
